


Love and Insomnia

by WrathoftheStag



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anxiety, COVID-19, Domesticity, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Insomnia, M/M, NHL Return to Play, Quarantine, mask wearing, no one gets sick, pandemic problems, slowish burn, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrathoftheStag/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: During the quarantine, Jack meets with his new next-door neighbor.  The two discover their insomnia makes a good basis for friendship as they meet up nightly on their balconies. Is love in their future?
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 163
Kudos: 393





	1. Nocturnal Companionship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [belfemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belfemon/gifts).



> Written for the [Fandom Cares: BLM Auction](https://fandomcares.tumblr.com/post/620061910413557760/fandom-cares-is-a-fan-run-project-that-aims-to). Thanks to [Belfemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belfemon) for bidding on me. They wanted a fic centered around quarantine insomnia.

**_April_ **

3:00 a.m.

Jack looked at the clock on his nightstand as it shone in the moonlight. He sighed and quietly swore under this breath. He looked again just to double-check. Yep, 3:00 a.m. 

Jack grabbed his pillow and placed it over this face. Maybe he could smother himself to sleep? 

“This stinks!” he yelled into the pillow then flung it across the bedroom.

Since March, it had been the same every night. At least two or three times a week, Jack would wake up at three in the morning without rhyme or reason, often staying awake until five or six. His mother said it might be his digestive system, Shitty suggested his liver was the culprit, and Tater offered him a home remedy that involved vodka, anise, and some sort of tea.

Jack, however, knew what it was. The quarantine had wreaked havoc on his anxiety. During the day, he was fine. He’d Skype with his parents, play Settlers of Catan with Holster and Ransom over Zoom, do virtual tandem workouts with Tater, but at night, before falling asleep, his mind would do its usual worst-case scenario inventory. _What if his parents got sick? What if the NHL started the season before it was safe? What if he was asymptomatic and spreading COVID whenever he’d go to the grocery store?_

Jack was familiar with anxiety-induced insomnia, but the last time he had it this bad was when he was a young boy staying up at night worrying about disappointing his father. 

“Maybe I should get a cat?” he said to the ceiling apropos nothing.

After a few minutes, Jack kicked off the blanket and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water from the carafe and was about to take a sip when he heard a loud crash coming from the other side of the wall. It sounded like a ton of bricks fell in the apartment next door. He put his glass down and got close to the wall.

“Hey,” Jack called out.

“Sorry!” he heard a muffled reply.

He pressed his ear to the wall.

“No, I mean, are you okay?”

“Yeah… I just dropped my cast iron skillet. I’m okay!”

“Oh,” he replied. 

After a few moments of silence, Jack realized the conversation was over.

“Okay,” he called out. 

Jack frowned and made his way to the fridge.

“Cast iron skillet? Who cooks at 3:00 a.m.?” he said to himself as he scanned his leftovers, then instantly closed the fridge. 

He knew he wasn’t hungry. Jack drank the rest of his water and made his way to the couch, where he watched a documentary on urban food deserts until he finally fell asleep at 5:00 a.m.

**+**

3:00 a.m.

Jack looked at his clock. He closed one eye, then the other, rapidly going back and forth from eye to eye, making the clock jump to and fro in his vision.

He promised himself he was going to try to stay up late, in hopes that he’d sleep through the entire night, but by 9:00 p.m., he passed out on the couch. 

It was only when he jerked awake at 2:00, that he quickly climbed into his bed and tried to chase that sleep once again. Instead, he tossed and turned for an hour until he gave up.

“See, this is where I would talk to my cat for companionship. They’re nocturnal, right?” Jack said to himself. He laughed when he realized what he was doing. “Okay, Zimmermann. Get a grip.”

He sat up and heard some sort of breathy, high-pitched squeaking. Was it music? It seemed to be coming from his balcony. For a moment, Jack wondered if a poor bird was dying out there.

Jack slipped on some old Raptors basketball shorts and a Samwell t-shirt and made his way toward the offending noise. The closer he got, the more he could make out the tune.

Jack slid the balcony door open and found the source. It was his neighbor, sitting in his balcony next door, playing a tune with his eyes closed. 

Jack’s building was unusual in that there was no space between balconies. They each butted up against the other with only a railing in between. Jack’s neighbor to the left had been out of the country for months and had not returned. And his neighbor to the right? Well, Jack paused as he took him in.

Jack had heard him move in about a month ago, just before everything fell apart, but had yet to see him. Sandy blond hair, a cute button nose, he was wearing a well-worn Boston University sweatshirt with the smallest shorts Jack had ever seen. He was cute. Very cute.

“Is that the Barcarolle? From Tales of Hoffman?” Jack asked as a greeting.

“Oh,” his neighbor said as he opened his eyes and stopped abruptly. “Hi. Um… hello.”

“Hi.”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “It is. How’d you know? I’m impressed, Mister... uh... Mister…” 

“Mister Jack.”

“Mister Jack,” the man repeated. He smiled, then frowned, “Did you just call yourself mister?”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

His neighbor laughed as well. “Silly.”

“So, what are you doing?” 

“Well, I saw those darn videos from Italy. You know, the ones of people on their balconies singin’ and stuff bringing everyone together—I know, I know, it totally romanticizes an awful situation, but I thought… _maybe_?”

He spoke a mile a minute, and Jack couldn’t help but grin.

“So you decided on a recorder?” He chirped as his neighbor clutched the instrument to his chest tightly. “What? Providence all out of accordions and bagpipes?”

“That’s all I know how to play!” his neighbor cried. 

The balcony's lighting allowed Jack to see his neighbor’s blush. 

The two laughed when they suddenly heard a voice from a few floors above them yell out, “Shut the fuck up!” 

Jack’s neighbor snorted and covered his mouth. 

He then whispered, “Lord! I bet that’s that highfalutin hockey guy yelling at us.”

Jack furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Yeah, you know that NHL star that lives in the building. I don’t know who he is, but that’s all I heard from the neighbors when I first moved in. Stanley Cup, this. Hockey, that.”

“Oh.”

Jack grinned, delighted that Eric had no clue who he was. It was nice to be spoken to as just a regular guy.

“I’m Eric, by the way.”

“I’d shake your hand, but you know,” Jack said with an ‘oh, well’ shrug. “So, that hockey guy. You don’t know who he is?”

Eric shook his head. “Not really into hockey, but from what I’ve heard of the NHL with all its posturing, toxic masculinity, and stuff, I can picture him yelling at us to shut the eff up.”

“Well, they can’t _all_ be bad,” Jack said. He pulled the chair on his balcony a bit closer to Eric’s railing, still maintaining six feet between them, and sat down.

“No, I guess not, but odds are he might be a meathead,” Eric said. 

“A meathead? Ouch!” 

The two smiled at each other.

“Yeah, you know. Kicks sand in guys’ faces at the beach, tells women to smile, likes _Transformers_ movies, probably eats salad with his hands—that sort of thing.”

“Salad with his hands? People do that?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen it!”

Jack grinned. He already liked this guy. He reminded Jack of Shitty somehow, only sweeter and more animated. 

“So, have you lived in the building long, Jack?”

“A couple years. I moved in when I signed with the Falconers,” he said with a chirpy grin.

Eric’s mouth fell open. “The Falconers? Oh, lord. Come on! You walked me right into that one.”

Jack smiled. “Jack Zimmermann, resident meathead at your service. I use a fork for my salad, by the way.”

Eric covered his face and shook his head. “I always do that. Always!”

“Always do what?”

“Put my dang foot in my mouth. Always, and then I end up looking the fool.”

Jack shook his head. “You absolutely have reason to make that assumption. I don’t know about that salad thing because that’s just weird, but lucky for you, this building is certified NHL meathead-free.”

“Okay, that was super judgy of me and not fair. I have friends who are jocks and totally not meatheads, but I like to think they’re the exception to the rule. And you—of course!”

“Of course,” Jack said with a grin and a quick nod.

Eric smiled, then yawned. 

“Pardon me!” he said at the end of the yawn. “Sorry. I’m just so tired but can’t sleep.”

“I get that. If I can get five hours of continuous sleep, I call that a win.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

Jack nodded. 

“Guess I’ll go give it the college try,” Eric said. “But hey, if you’re up again at 3:00 a.m., I wouldn’t mind bumping into you. Better than feeling like you’re the only person awake in the entire world, right?”

Jack smiled shyly. “Sure, yeah. Okay, have a good night—or at least try.”

Eric waved and went back inside, leaving Jack alone on his balcony. Jack thought Eric was right; it was nice not feeling like he was the only person awake in the world.

**+++**

“How’d you sleep?” Alicia asked.

Jack stopped chopping his broccoli and put the knife down. “About the same.”

He could practically hear her pacing over the phone.

“Jacky, what about drinking warm milk before bed?”

“That makes me gassy. Super gassy,” he said with a smirk.

“Gross,” she replied with a chuckle. “So, what do you do all night?”

“I read, watch TV. I’ve given up just staying in bed because all that does is frustrate me. It does get really quiet, though.”

“You can call us if you feel lonely,” Alicia said, and it clenched Jack’s heart to hear the worry in her voice. “You know that, right?”

“Maman, I’m not going to wake you two up in the middle of the night. Besides, it turns out I’m not alone. Seems like my neighbor can’t sleep either.”

“Your neighbor? You talked to your neighbor?”

“Yeah, his name is Eric. He was out on his balcony last night—or this morning, I guess—and our paths sort of crossed.”

“Are you keeping your distance?” Alicia asked. 

Jack could hear the panic in her voice.

“No, maman. I immediately jumped over the railing and started making out with him,” Jack chirped.

“Isn’t it fascinating how you instantly made that leap?” She chirped right back. “So what you’re saying is that you think he’s cute.”

Jack could hear her smile.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she shot back playfully.

“Anyway, yes, I kept my distance. We were outside and over six feet apart.”

“Good. That’s all I need, for you to get sick because of some random cute neighbor.”

Jack heard a pounding through the kitchen wall.

“Hold on, maman.” He put the phone down and yelled, “Yeah?”

“You want some pie?!”

“Pie?”

“Yeah, pie. Come out to the balcony.”

“Okay!”

Jack picked the phone back up and could hear Alicia chuckle. “Is that him?”

“Yeah, that’s Eric. He has some pie for me?”

“Just don’t get too close!”

“No worries. Can I call you later?”

“Certainly, sweetheart. Have fun with your _neighbor_ , but not too much fun!”

The way Alicia said “neighbor” made Jack blush inexplicably. 

“Bye, maman.”

He wiped his hands on the dish towel and began to walk toward the balcony. He then paused and dashed to the bathroom. Jack checked his reflection. He put a stray chunk of hair back in place, looked at his teeth for any broccoli, and then nodded once to his reflection.

“That’ll do,” he said.

Jack made his way onto his sunny balcony and got a good look at Eric’s. The floor was painted a playful yellow. He had a bright white shelf filled with colorful pots of flowers, plants, and herbs. The turquoise table and chair set were cheerful, and there was a wind chime that had a metal pie hanging at the end. Eric had put more personality and life into that balcony in two months than Jack had to his in five years.

“Wow, your balcony makes mine look like a dump,” he said as he sat down. Eric had already placed a slice of pie on a disposable plate on Jack’s teak table.

“Oh, hush. Your balcony is fine. It’s, um, neutral—a classic. Soothing!”

“That’s a very diplomatic way of saying boring,” Jack teased.

“Enough chit-chat, try the pie,” Eric said as he sat down.

Jack took a bite, and his eyes grew wide. 

“You made this?” he said out of the corner of his mouth. 

It was a tart cherry but not overwhelmingly sour. It had just the right amount of sweetness and an incredibly flakey crust.

“Sure did,” Eric said, eyes twinkling. “Guess you liked it, huh?”

Jack was shoveling in his third forkful.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. Lots of available baking hours when you can’t sleep.”

Jack finished his slice. “You’re going to be dangerous for my diet.”

“Diet, schmiet,” Eric said with a dismissive wave. “An occasional slice of pie ain’t going to kill you.”

Jack smacked his lips.

“So, did you end up falling asleep?”

“Yeah, around four, and I woke up at nine. The bags under my eyes are getting so big, an airline is going to want to charge me extra baggage fees.”

“I think you look great,” Jack said without really thinking.

Eric turned red. “I need a haircut, and I could use a facial and--”

“You know what my mom says is one of the hardest things to do?”

Eric paused. 

“Huh?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“You know what my mom says is one of the hardest things to do?” Jack repeated.

Eric shook his head.

“Learn how to take a compliment.”

“Oh.”

Jack smiled. “I think you look great.”

“Well, aren’t you quite the parrot?”

Jack looked at Eric with his best Captainly expression.

Erin grinned. “Um… thanks.”

The two smiled again. There was a lot of smiling going on with them. It was constant.

“Hey,” Jack began, not quite sure how to interpret the moment or what to do with it. “Do you want to play Battleship?”

“Battleship?”

“Yeah, we don’t have to be right next to each other to play. I’ll leave one board at your front door, so you wipe it down, and then we can call out our moves from across our balconies.”

“Lord, I haven’t played Battleship since I was ten,” Eric replied.

“I know, it’s dorky, but I don’t care,” Jack said.

Eric smiled brightly. “Sure. Bring it over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [barcarolle](https://youtu.be/Cyaq7nLHZEE) from The Tales of Hoffmann, which I had to to learn in 8th grade on the recorder because apparently our junior high music teacher was a masochist.


	2. Hand Holding and Liking Liking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack realizes he has a crush on his neighbor. Now what?

**_May_ **

3:45 a.m. 

Jack sat with his back against the wall and adjusted the sizable outdoor pillow behind him, as Eric continued with his chatter.

During the last several weeks, it had become a source of delight and joy for Jack. Feeling less alone than he had in months—even before the pandemic, he had built an unusual yet, comforting friendship with Eric. 

They spoke nightly about their childhoods, their jobs (Eric was a food writer and fortunate enough to be able to work from home.), even their fears and dreams. For Jack, opening up to people had always been a challenge, but with Eric, it never felt like work. 

“So I told Coach that I would continue with figure skating, and that would be the end of that. Lord, I just about had a heart attack thinking he would flip his lid, but he exhaled and said, ‘Alright then, Junior. Alright.’”

Eric was sprawled out on a small futon he had dragged out to the balcony a week ago. This was now their thing, they’d get comfy and talk until one of them finally gave up and would go back to bed. Eric upped the ante when he’d introduced the futon into their nightly get-togethers.

Jack laughed. “There you go.”

“Yeah, too bad my knee gave out, and that was the end of that,” Eric said. “I mean, at least that talk with Coach prepared me for coming out to my parents.”

They had never really spoken about their sexualities outright, only inferences and veiled sentiments, so the fact that Eric told Jack explicitly about this sexuality meant something. Jack heard Eric’s breath still.

“Well, I hope it went as smoothly,” Jack replied. “As it should.”

He could hear Eric exhale softly. “It did, thanks. Now, instead of nagging me, asking if I’m bringing a girl home, they nag me about meeting a nice young man.”

“Parents are talented that way.”

Eric chuckled, “Yes, I suppose they are.”

They had been nothing but open with one another, or so Jack believed, so there was no reason to stop now.

Jack recalled how he had spoken with George shortly after signing with the Falconers five years ago.

“I’m not seeing anyone, nor do I think I will anytime soon—I’m focusing on hockey right now,” he had said.

She had nodded quietly.

“But I promised myself I wouldn’t hide who I am.” 

“Jack, I would never ask you to hide. The Falconers would never ask you.”

It was then that Jack knew with 100% certainty he had picked the right team. And now, here he was on a balcony, at ass o’clock with someone he now considered a good friend, so why should he hide?

“My parents found out I was bi when they walked in on me with someone. So that made The Talk _super_ easy."

Eric was quiet for a few beats. Jack could then hear the smile in his voice, “Oh my god if Coach ever walked in on me being _involved_ with someone, I’d just up and die.”

Jack grinned. “Involved, eh?”

“Involved.”

And just like that, Eric and Jack came out to one another. 

Jack took a sip from the travel mug Eric had given him.

“This is so good. What’s in it again?”

“Ginger, cinnamon, black peppercorns, anise, and a touch of spearmint.”

“Black peppercorns, who knew?” Jack said, then stifled a yawn.

“You think we’ll ever get to sleep throughout the night again?” Eric asked. 

“Maybe,” Jack replied quietly. “Someday. Who knows?”

He put his travel mug down then turned on his side as he got comfy on his outdoor sofa cushions, which served as an ersatz bed. He faced Eric, who faced him, over six feet away.

“Someone posted on Twitter that the quarantine has turned most lives into a Jane Austen novel and how they looked forward to their daily walk,” Eric said, his voice sounded scratchy and tired.

“Their daily constitutional,” Jack said plainly.

“Daily constitutional?” Eric laughed. “You are such a grandpa!”

“What? That’s what it’s called!” Jack said in his defense, a smile danced on his face.

“Okay, but when was the last time someone actually said that?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jack said through his laughter.

“Jack Zimmermann, you are something else.”

The two smiled shyly at one another.

“You know what I positively love?”

Jack shook his head.

“That your neighbor is gone, and I’m in the corner apartment, so it’s just us in our little bubble.”

“Just you, me,” Jack said, “and the Shut the Fuck Up guy.”

Eric laughed softly, then sighed. 

“It’s a nice night,” he said. 

“Or morning,” Jack replied.

“You hush, mister.”

The two remained quiet for a spell, looking at one another—all timid smiles and soft eyes.

“One day, we’ll skate at my rink,” Jack said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

**_June_ **

“I don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner?” Eric said as they walked to the local coffee shop.

“What’s that?” Jack said as he cupped his ear. “This old-timer can barely hear you, what with me being 15 feet away.”

“Excuse you, Mister Zimmermann, this is the standard six feet social distancing, thank you very much. We are setting an example for everyone else.”

Jack gave Eric a once over. His steady, confident stride, the cute rabbits on the mask he wore, the way his hair shone like gold in the sun. He had just shaved the back and sides of his head; Jack noticed it was shorter than before.

“You look different,” Jack said.

“Different?”

“In real life.”

“Real life? Honey, this barely counts as real life.”

“You know what I mean. Outside of our bubble. It’s just nice to be out.”

Eric nodded. “For sure.”

“You cut your hair.”

Eric ran his fingers through the hairs on the back of his head. They looked soft to the touch and for a moment, Jack wished he could touch them.

“Yeah, I was tired of looking like something the cat dragged in, so I buzzed my hair. Just the sides and back, you know? To freshen it up.”

“It looks good, like you went to the barbershop.”

“Aw, thanks, you charmer.”

“I’m just letting my hair go. Can’t do much with it, and I’m not talented like you are.”

Eric glanced at him. 

“It looks good.”

“It looks exactly like I had it my freshman year of college. God, my hair was even longer than Shitty's back then."

"Shitty! From what you've told me, he sounds like such a character."

"Yeah, you'd really like him. He had the best flow! Hard to believe this mop," Jack said as he pointed at his head, "is revisiting its old Samwell days. The longer it gets, the curlier the ends get.”

Eric smiled. “Me too. Soon, the top of my hair will look like one giant curlicue. Then it’s just one short leap to sheepsville.”

“I like your mask, by the way,” Jack said. " _Lapin_."

“Huh?”

“Rabbit,” Jack said as he made bunny ears with his fingers. 

“I have a thing for bunnies. That’s, uh, quite a mask you have there. Wait, what exactly is that?”

“Bass fish.”

“Oh, Jack, honey, no,” Eric said with a chuckle.

“What? Fishing is cool. I also have one with a golf ball pattern.”

"Please tell me you don't have one with the Canadian flag on it."

Jack hummed. "No comment."

Eric laughed, and Jack beamed. He didn’t mind if Eric was chirping him, as long as he made Eric smile like that. Or at least he thought Eric was smiling, it was hard to tell with the masks.

The two walked in comfortable silence to their neighborhood coffee shop, five blocks away. It was a small local business that, it turned out, Jack and Eric had frequented quite a bit before the pandemic.

“The order should be done by the time we get there,” Jack said as he looked at his phone. “I just got a status update.”

“Lord, I hope they make it and don’t go out of business. This has been so hard on the food industry.” Eric’s face grew sad. “It’s one thing to be on the outside of it all, but from my perspective, writing about it, talking to people—colleagues losing their jobs, friends losing their restaurants—it’s heartbreaking, you know?”

“I can’t even imagine,” Jack said.

“So, how are you feeling about going back to work?”

Jack inhaled then released it in a large whoosh.

“There’s talk about the safety bubbles and stuff but I don’t know. There are guys with newborns, some with health issues… it’s a lot.”

Eric looked at Jack with concern in his eyes. Even his mask couldn’t hide the warmth in his expression.

“I’d give you a hug right now if I could.”

Jack swallowed dryly as he internally acknowledged there was nothing he wanted more in the world than a hug from Eric.

“Hey, speaking of work,” Eric continued, “I get that you’re mister big bucks, but no fair, you paid for our coffee.”

“You can pay for it next time if it’s that important to you.”

“Next time, huh? Who said there’s gonna be a next time?”

Jack paused. He hadn’t meant to overstep. Maybe Eric was getting sick of Jack, and Jack was far too presumptuous about their friendship.

“Hey. Hey, now. I can practically hear the wheels in your head turning. I was kidding, sweetheart. Of course, there’s gonna be a next time.”

Jack released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He glanced at Eric, who had stopped to take a photo of someone’s garden. Eric, who had been nothing but kind and open and welcoming since day one. Eric, with his beautiful spirit and face, his amazing laugh, and… oh crap. 

Eric turned and waved his phone at Jack. “Those are some nice hydrangeas. If I ever get a yard, that’s what I want.”

Jack stood momentarily in place, dumbfounded by his revelation. He liked Eric. _Liked_ him. He hadn’t liked anyone in so long; he’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

“What’s the matter? Bass got your tongue?” Eric asked.

“Euh… no. I-I was just wondering if I left my, uh, iron on.”

Smooth.

Eric’s forehead crinkled. “I highly doubt that. You’re wearing yesterday’s t-shirt, and those basketball shorts have seen better days. Come on, gramps, coffee awaits.”

Jack willed his body to move and followed Eric, all the while trying to process his newfound information. Leave it to Jack to fall for someone during a pandemic. He had always had the worst timing when it came to dating. 

They arrived at The Daily Grind and got in line, standing behind their social distancing marker, Jack standing six feet to the left of Eric. Jack found himself fidgeting, wanting to look at Eric but trying not to stare. Eric, meanwhile, would glance at Jack. That same forehead crinkle from earlier appeared above his mask.

When they finally got to the front door of the coffee shop, they found their drinks labeled and waiting for them on a table placed just inside the propped-opened door. The condensation on Eric’s iced latte rolled down the side of the plastic cup.

“Hey, Eric!” A voice called from inside.

“Tasha, hey! How you holding up, sugar?”

Tasha was the owner of The Daily Grind. Jack would see her all the time when he’d stop for coffee, but never actually spoke to her. 

“Just plugging along. What else can you do, right? It’s nice to start seeing old familiar faces,” she shouted from behind the counter.

“I promise I’ll come back—we’ll come back—more often,” he yelled back.

“Oh? Who’s your friend,” Tasha said as she squinted.

“This is my friend, Jack. He was a regular, too.” Eric turned toward Jack, “Wave hi.”

“Euh, hi,” Jack waved, feeling as awkward as he sounded. 

Tasha stared at him for a moment; then her eyes grew wide with recognition. The effect was quite comedic with her mask on.

“Oh, hello, Jack. Good to see you again. Well, enjoy.”

They walked back home, and Eric continued with his chatter. Jack looked at Eric thoughtfully. Yes, without a doubt Jack had feelings for him. But what could really come of it right now? For all Jack knew Eric probably had no interest in him in that way. Would things get weird between them? _Tabarnak_ , what if Eric laughed at him? 

When they were at their building, Eric began to open the door and paused.

“Okay, what’s up with you?”

Jack startled. "Huh?"

"I can feel your vibes coming off you like whoa. What's going on?"

Jack thought he was doing a good job of acting casually as if his heart hadn’t just somersaulted through a flaming hoop.

“In the words of my friend Derek, you have absolutely no chill right now,” Eric said.

Jack gripped his coffee and stood, not sure what to say.

 _You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take_ , he suddenly heard his father say.

“I like you,” Jack blurted out. 

Eric let go of the door handle and stood silently. The door slowly closed shut. 

“You… like me?”

Jack nodded wide-eyed and wished he could take a sip of his coffee so his throat wouldn’t feel like centuries-old parchment.

“Lord," Eric said as he looked up toward the sky then back at Jack, "I can’t believe I’m going to say this like I’m 12 or something, but do you mean _like me_ like me?”

Jack nodded again. 

Jack could see Eric’s eyes crinkle from what Jack could only assume was a smile (Oh god, Jack hoped Eric wasn’t laughing at him.).

“Honey, I like you, too.”

“You do?”

“Well, yeah. Lots. I didn’t know how much more obvious I could be short of hiring a skywriter.”

Jack could feel his mask move as his smile threatened to rip it apart.

“Good. That’s good.”

“Why don’t we go upstairs, wash up, and we’ll meet on the balcony to discuss our newly declared fondness over coffee?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Jack walked over and opened the door for Eric.

“Why, thank you, Mister Zimmermann.”

“After you, Mr. Bittle.”

They each entered the elevator, and Eric and Jack stood at opposite ends, neither said a word. Eric pressed their elevator floor button, and Jack could feel the warmth coming off Eric’s body. There was a current of excitement and nerves running through the elevator, and Jack had a giddiness he hadn’t felt in years. It was like scoring-a-hatty levels of glee. 

He liked Eric, and Jack wanted to show him, right away, just how much he liked him. And, luck of all lucks, Eric liked him back.

“Can I make you dinner tonight?" Jack asked. "Like a date?”

Eric turned toward Jack. “A date?”

“Yeah, I can grill us some steaks on the balcony, and we can eat out there.”

“I’d love that, Jack.”

The elevator dinged as the doors opened. They exited the elevator, and the two paused just outside it.

“How about I bring dessert and a salad?” Eric asked.

“Right on,” Jack said with a smile and a hokey thumbs up. “I have some potatoes I can bake, too. How does six sound?”

“Perfect, see you then.”

Eric tapped his foot to Jack’s, their first real touch, and then he turned and walked toward his apartment, leaving Jack smiling, relishing in the zing his foot still felt at Eric’s touch.

**+**

“See, you need the Montreal steak seasoning, or else it hardly counts as a steak,” Jack said as he looked at his timer.

Eric sat on his table, swinging his feet, as he watched Jack grill from his balcony.

“Four minutes each side. You get those nice grill marks, and then you let the steaks rest for 10 minutes.”

“I’ve never had a boy grill me dinner before. Well, no, I take that back. I’ve never had a boy that wasn’t my daddy grill me dinner before.”

Jack grinned and flipped the steaks.

“Smells delish,” Eric called out.

“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“I doubt that’s even possible, Jack Zimmermann.”

The two smiled at each other. Eric then hopped off his table.

“Okay, I’m going to push my table right up against the railing, and you do the same with yours. Then it’ll feel like we’re eating at the same table.”

“Perfect, and while the steaks are resting, I’ll get the baked potatoes. They should be ready by now,” Jack said. 

“And I’ll set the tables. Do you want some fresh chives for the potatoes? I'll snip some." 

Eric made a cute scissors-cutting motion with his hand.

"That sounds great," Jack replied.

"Great! Be right back.”

“Eric?” Jack called out before he left.

“Yes?” he said, pausing halfway through his screen door.

“Thanks for going on a date with me.”

Eric smiled, a flush danced across his cheeks, “Thanks for asking me, you handsome silly boy.”

They’d eaten together before, countless times, but this felt different. Both Eric and Jack knew it, but in many ways, it was the same as it had been between them all along: easy and sweet and kind.

“You know, I was skeptical about that Montreal spice thingy, seeing that us Bittles are salt and pepper folk, but it’s not bad,” Eric said as he cut into another piece of his steak.

“Papa would approve that you approve,” Jack said as he smiled into this fork.

“Do you miss them? Your parents?”

“Yeah, it’s hard with them being so far away—and who can say when we’ll travel again, but I’m lucky we can talk every day and see each other online. What about you?”

Eric took a sip of his wine as he nodded.

“Same here. We talk, and it’s not like I went home frequently, but now, knowing I can’t, makes it rough. I miss my MooMaw more than anyone else.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Yeah, I know it’s terrible to say that, but she’s living alone and what if she needs something? I worry about her.”

“Your grandfather’s not around anymore?”

Eric shook his head. “No, he passed when I was about ten. It’s always been MooMaw and me ever since, causing trouble. My mama calls us co-conspirators.”

“I only have my Zayde Ira. He’s in Montreal, too. My parents see him quite a bit or at least used to before all this." 

Jack instantly recalled fishing trips with his zayde and papa and smiled. 

"Like your MooMaw, though, he lives alone. He’s 82, so my parents are careful around him. He’s a real character. You’d like him. He was good friends with the Rocket.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Eric said, “but let me guess. Hockey?”

Jack grinned. “It would be like if your MooMaw was friends with Peggy Fleming.”

“Wow. That’s so neat.”

Jack smiled broadly and had to admit he felt a little smug impressing Eric. The two continued with their meal, laughing and exchanging stories when it began to drizzle.

“Oh no!” Eric cried out as he looked up toward the sky. “I didn’t think it was going to rain this early.”

“Does this mean the date is over?” Jack asked with a frown.

“Honey, no. The balcony doesn’t get too wet from the rain. Let’s clear our dishes, and we can come back out for dessert.”

This thing with Eric, it felt natural and right, somehow. Jack had never felt this comfortable with anyone so quickly. They felt good. Real. 

As he put his dishes in the sink, he could feel the grin on his face. Was it unreasonable to be thinking about him and Eric as a “we” already? 

Jack started his coffee maker and pulled out two mugs. He poured some half and half and three teaspoons of sugar in his Falconers mug, getting it ready for Eric’s coffee. And it was at that moment that Jack realized he was humming. He paused, and it occurred to him how truly gone he already was on Eric. They hadn’t even touched or kissed, but Jack felt this was it for him. Was it dangerous to feel so sure about something so soon? He poured the coffee and decided to shelve that question for now.

It was raining in earnest by the time Jack returned to their balconies. He smiled when he saw that Eric had lit some candles and turned on the twinkle lights on his balcony. The flames of the candles danced in the rainy breeze. A slice of apple pie sat on Jack’s table. 

Eric stood by his railing, overlooking the city. In the sleepy glow of dusk, Jack thought Eric looked positively beautiful. 

“I love this. The rain, the city, it almost seems normal out there,” he said quietly.

“Here,” Jack said as he placed the coffee mug on Eric’s table. “Just how you like it.”

Eric turned and looked at Jack over his shoulder.

“Thank you. You’re very sweet and kind… and handsome.”

Jack could feel his face heat up, and Eric grinned as he noticed Jack’s embarrassment. 

“See? That’s one of the things I like about you so much. You’re so darn shy and modest.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “I’m pretty braggy on the ice. Obnoxious even, so I've been told.”

“Well, you’re shy and modest with me,” Eric said as he smiled at Jack. “So, what’s this about you liking-liking me?”

Jack grinned. “Well, now it just seems like you’re fishing for compliments.”

“Don’t look at me. You’re the one that brought it up, mister.”

Jack approached the railing, each one standing on opposite sides. Jack leaned on his elbows against the balcony, hands dangling gently over the railing. He decided to continue being as open with Eric as they had been with each other all along.

“I like you,” he said. “I feel like we’ve known each other for longer than we have, and I feel safe and listened to when I’m with you.”

He turned to face Eric, and their eyes met.

“I like you,” he repeated.

Eric looked at Jack with dark eyes, wide. His mouth quirked into a tiny grin.

“I like you, too, Jack. For all the same reasons.”

Jack decided to go for broke. 

“I know we haven’t gone out on any real dates or anything, and this is all new, but is it really?”

Eric shook his head as Jack continued. 

“The thing you have to know about me is that when I’m into something, I’m always 110%. I give it my all.” 

Eric watched Jack intently without saying a word. 

“So, I was wondering if you’d like to be exclusive—that is, would you be my boyfriend?”

Jack could feel beads of sweat build on his forehead as Eric stood silently.

“Of course, I’ll be your boyfriend,” Eric finally said with a sweet chirpy smile. “So formal.”

Jack smiled brightly as his stomach did a tiny flip. 

“You know,” Eric said, “I haven’t seen anyone or gone anywhere… except to the grocery store and back, and I always wear a mask outside.”

“Me, too,” Jack replied. 

“The only person I’ve talked to every day for the last three months, in the flesh, has been you.”

“Same.”

“Jack?”

“Yes?”

“Can I hold your hand?” Eric asked softly. 

“Please,” Jack replied, voice gravelly.

Jack scooted down and reached over their connecting railings. Eric offered his hand to Jack who took it. They instantly interlaced their fingers. He could hear Eric’s breath hitch; his hand was soft and warm and small compared to Jack’s. Bitty, really, and it fit perfectly in his. 

Jack remembered a line from a poem he had read in college. _Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands…_

He looked at their hands, how they fit just right, how good and comforting it all felt. And at that moment, Jack finally understood what all the fuss over hand-holding in Regency novels was all about. They were only holding hands, but it was already better than any kiss Jack had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond](https://poets.org/poem/somewhere-i-have-never-travelledgladly-beyond) by e.e. cummings.
> 
> Thanks to [RabbitRunnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitRunnah/) for giving it a read through.


	3. The Rest of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard being a couple when you're apart and there's a global pandemic. Somehow, Jack and Eric manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a sweet one to write and I hope belfemon liked it. xo

**_July_ **

“So his little brother ate his pet turtle?”

“He sure did.”

“And then he ruined his father’s business meeting?”

“Absolutely.”

“And this was your favorite book as a kid?” Jack asked.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

Eric laughed. “It was more about Peter than Fudge.”

Jack frowned. “I feel sorry for Peter.”

“If it’s any consolation, he ended up finally getting a dog—and named it Turtle,” Eric said matter-of-factly. “Hey, at least my favorite kid’s book doesn’t involve poor orphaned children living in an abandoned train.”

“It was a boxcar,” Jack protested. “And their rich grandfather eventually finds them.”

Jack smiled as he gripped the phone and sank deeper into this pillow. The hotel’s air conditioning felt extra frigid that morning and Jack was glad he had an extra puffy comforter.

“I miss seeing your face,” he said.

“Lord, honey, me too,” he heard Eric whisper.

Jack had been at the Royal York for a week now, and while he was happy to see his teammates again, he’d rather they would have just all stayed at home and called the season a wash. He was nervous about the season starting, there was no doubt about it, and August 1st was just around the corner.

He and Eric had said a fretful goodbye on the balcony the afternoon Jack left. He recalled how Eric was on the verge of tears as they held hands.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Eric had said.

“I will.”

“And you’ll wear your mask as much as possible.”

“ _Ouais_.”

“How will we sleep?” Eric asked as his lip began to tremble.

“Not that much different, I suppose,” Jack had replied. 

Eric nodded as a tear rolled down his face. Jack gently cupped his face, then left—afraid that if he looked back, he would never leave.

One week later, it had already felt a month; Jack was miserable, Eric was miserable… and the season hadn’t even officially begun yet.

“Well, I should try to get some sleep,” Eric said through a yawn.

“Yeah, it is almost 7:00, Bittle,” Jack chirped.

Eric chuckled, the fatigue evident in his voice. “Call me later?”

“Always,” Jack replied. “Now, get to sleep.”

Jack put his phone on the nightstand and made a mental note that his alarm would be going off in an hour. He pulled the blanket over his head, and his mind was instantly a maelstrom. Everyone on all the teams was safe, but Jack wondered daily, was it worth it? 

A guy on one of the other teams decided to leave; his wife had just given birth.

“I miss my family, dude,” he told one of the Canes. Jack had overheard them as they quickly crossed paths in the hallway. 

Jack admitted that even though he now had people around him all the time, he was feeling more alone than ever. No one was allowed to enter anyone else’s room. The hotel’s bars and restaurants were opened to players in each bubble, but social distancing had to be followed. Jack grew frustrated more and more each day. He missed his apartment, his balcony, and above all, his safe little bubble with Eric. 

The bubble which soon began to change shape as their relationship had evolved into a new level of intimacy neither one had expected to come so quickly.

One late night, the two were falling asleep outside on their makeshift beds when Eric stretched languidly, like a lithe, sleepy feline, releasing a low moan. Jack swallowed dryly when he saw how Eric arched his back, how his neck gleamed in the moonlight.

“You look…” Jack began, not meaning to actually say anything.

Eric snapped his attention to Jack, eyes intently on him, shining in the dark light.

“I look?” he said with a coquettish smile. “How? How do I look?” 

Eric rolled over onto his side, elbow bent, head resting on his hand.

Jack grinned slowly. “I think you know _exactly_ how you're looking—and what you’re doing.”

“Do I? Why don’t you tell me?” he said with a sassy smile.

Jack licked his lips and replied, “You look good enough to eat, like one of your pies.”

Jack could feel his face burn. It was a corny line, he knew it, but he said it anyway. He felt it. 

“You know, on anyone else, that line would be tragic… but on you, it’s downright sultry.”

Jack grinned again. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called sultry before.”

“Maybe not to your face,” Eric said as he slowly stroked his own neck. 

Jack smirked. “What’s going on here?”

Eric feigned innocence. “Nothing. Nothing at all, but if there were something going on, I’d start by kissing your neck.”

The two shared a smoldering glance.

“Sweet, soft butterfly kisses down your neck,” Eric continued. 

“And then what?” Jack asked, voice gravelly. 

Eric shook his head. “Nope, you next. What would you do to me?”

Jack suddenly pictured a thousand things, unable to say a single one. 

“Well," he said as he exhaled shakily, “I’d--"

“Guys! I can fucking hear you!” the Shut the Fuck Guy (who they later found out was named Johnson) shouted from above.

Eric’s eyes grew wide and Jack instinctively covered his mouth. They then dissolved into a fit of laughter, each one still feeling flushed and giddy, filled with want.

Jack smiled as he recalled that night, how a line had been crossed without anything even happening; how he could smell Eric from his side of the balcony, and wondered if his lips tasted as good as they looked. After that night, they’d now look at each other with new eyes. Each one, trying to touch the other, as much as possible; dying for a kiss—and more—yet never daring. 

Jack closed his eyes and wished he had drawn the hotel room drapes before he had climbed into bed. 

“Eric,” he said to himself as he began to drift off.

He managed to sleep for an hour before his alarm went off and a knock on the door woke him from his nap.

“Zimmboni?” Tater’s voice came from the other side of his hotel room door. “You want to come to breakfast with us?” 

Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes. 8:15.

“Hey, Tater," Jack called back. "No, I’m okay. I’ll see you later at the rink.”

“Okay.”

Jack sighed and rolled onto his stomach as he hugged his pillow. Everything just felt wrong to him. All of it. He picked up his phone and dialed.

“Everything okay, Jacky?” Alicia said in place of a greeting.

“Hi, Maman. Sorry to call so early.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Jack sighed.

“I… I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

"No?"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No."

Alicia’s voice softened considerably. “You know you don’t have to. It’s okay to opt-out. No one will think any less of you.”

“I know… but I’m going to let the team down.”

“Jack, I think most of them have doubts and won’t begrudge you if you don’t feel comfortable.” She paused a beat. “Do you want to talk to papa?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, hold on.”

Jack chewed on his lower lip, worried his father would be disappointed.

“Here’s a bit of trivia for you,” Bob said as he picked up the phone. “Did you know that players who want to opt-out, without a health concern, have to notify the league within three days of Return to Play?”

“Is that so?” Jack smiled. 

“I read that on the back of my cereal box this morning,” Bob said. “How about that?” 

“My anxiety is going through the roof right now, papa.”

“That’s a legitimate health concern, Jack.”

“No, I know, it’s just... Everyone else is playing.”

“Not true. Many players opted out, and no one is pissed at them. It’s strange times right now, son.”

Jack listened quietly. 

“Jack, your mother and I just want you to be happy and safe. If you said to us, ‘I want to play,’ we’d want you to be happy and safe. If you say, ‘I don’t want to play,’ the same thing. Happy and safe, got it?”

“I’m not judging anyone for playing, I swear, I’m not,” Jack said. 

“I know that, son.”

“And I don’t want people to think I am—I’m not.”

“Jack, people will understand. And the ones that don’t, we’ll that’s on them.”

Jack exhaled. “I guess I have to call Andre and George.”

“Do what you gotta do, son. Let me know if you need me to call Leo, too.”

Andre was Jack’s agent, and Leo was the Zimmermann family lawyer. Jack wanted to talk to George first, before anyone else. She had been on Jack’s side from the start and was a good friend. No one was prouder than Jack when she finally became GM. 

“Thanks, papa.”

“Of course, son.”

Jack knew his father was right. He felt lucky to have his support and wisdom.

“Can I talk to maman?”

“Yeppers, let me get her.”

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

“Feel better?” Alicia asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Getting there, anyway.”

“I’m sure all you need is a big smile from your guy,” Alicia said.

Jack grinned. “Probably. It wouldn’t hurt, that’s for sure.”

“How’s he doing?”

Eric had “met” Bob and Alicia over Skype, everyone in their respective homes, while they sat together virtually playing Pictionary. Alicia and Eric teamed up to play against Jack and Bob.

"Oh, I see how it is," Jack had chirped when Eric quickly paired himself off with Alicia.

"No grousing, mister," Eric had chirped back. "It's not my fault if you were too slow to pick your mama for your team. Where are your hockey reflexes now, Zimmermann?"

Alicia and Bob had been instantly charmed, and afterward, Alicia remarked on how happy and at ease Jack appeared.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like that before,” Alicia had said. “It’s nice to see, Jacky.”

Ever since then, the four of them Skyped frequently.

“Jack?” Alicia said. 

“Yeah?”

“It just occurred to me, you’re going to have quarantine before you go home. Just to be extra safe.”

“ _Crisse_ , you’re right. I thought I'd just wait it out at my place, but you're totally right.”

“Looks like you better find yourself a new hotel, Jacky.”

**+++**

_ ESPN > NEWS > COVID-PLAY _

**Small Group of NHL Players Select to Opt-Out from Return to Play**

_Per the “Return to Play” play guidelines, proposed and approved by the NHL, players who wish to opt-out of the truncated playoff season have until this Friday to notify their clubs. Players have begun opting out much to fans' dismay. This deadline comes after players have already been stationed in their respective team hotels and bubbles. Among those that are opting out include Schooners defenseman, Reuben Andersson, Aces defenseman Andy Ruiz, and Falconers alternate captain, Jack Zimmermann._

_“I wish I could lace up and be out there battling, but my health has to come first,” Andersson, a cancer survivor, told CBC Sports._

_“This is one of the hardest decisions that I’ve made,” Ruiz wrote in a Facebook post. “We have taken the pandemic very seriously, and my family is my number one priority.”_

_“Due to the uncertainties surrounding COVID and after much reflection, I’ve decided for deeply personal reasons not to participate in the Return to Play,” Zimmermann said in a statement released by the Falconers._

_Falconers’ general manager, Georgia Martin, stated, “While we will miss Jack in our lineup, we understand, respect, and support his decision.”_

_In total, 25 NHL players have chosen to opt-out. Postseason play is scheduled to begin August 1 in two hub cities, Toronto and Edmonton. The Capitals open against the Tampa Bay Lightning on August 3._

**+++**

“I wish I could send you a birthday pie,” Eric said.

Jack had been staying in a hotel in downtown Providence after he chose to rent a car and drive the eight hours back from Toronto.

“I know. I wish I could eat a slice of your pie right now.”

"I bet you do," Eric said with a hint of sass in his voice.

Jack laughed. 

“How are you feeling?” Eric asked.

Jack could hear the worry in his voice, and it made his heart clench.

“Fine. Totally fine, just bored. Can’t sleep. The usual?”

“Seven days down, seven to go. Lord, I bet you must be so sick and tired of room service already.”

“You have no idea,” Jack said with a chuckle. “I almost went outside to pick up a soup and sandwich or something, but then I felt like that would be cheating. I asked housekeeping not to clean my room, so I've had the same sheets forever. But it's just one more week, and then I can see you.” 

“And I can see you,” Eric said softly. “More importantly, then I can hold you.”

“I can’t wait,” Jack replied. "God, Eric, I really can't."

Jack knew they were a bit overly dramatic, but he didn’t care. There was nothing he wanted more than to see Eric again and finally, _finally_ , properly hold him. He had been tested while at the Royal York and decided this quarantine made sense as an extra precaution, but god, the days were dragging. Still, Jack knew it was for the best.

“I got your little video of that pigeon outside your hotel window."

“Oh, you mean Barry?”

"Barry? Yeah, I guess so. That’s your new best friend, huh?” 

“He’s an accountant," Jack deadpanned. 

“A pigeon accountant? Impressive,” Eric said.

“I thought he might be pulling my leg until I saw him with a tiny calculator the other day.”

Eric laughed.

“He had reading glasses on, too.”

Eric laughed even harder, which made Jack grin from ear to ear.

“I have a surprise for you,” Eric said once his laughter subsided.

“For me?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “It’s on the balcony.”

“Is it twinkle lights?” Jack asked, smiling. “A yellow floor?”

Eric _tsked_. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I don’t even get a hint?”

“Nope. Seven days, and you’ll get to see the surprise in person.”

“You’re all I care about seeing in person,” Jack said, voice thick.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann,” Eric sighed, “you can’t say things like that to me. My poor gay heart can’t take much more pining and longing, sweetpea.”

Jack smiled. 

“Try to get some sleep, yeah?” he said. “It’s midnight. Let’s see how it goes.”

“No promises,” Eric said. “I slept five hours last night. You know, the usual.”

“Good night, Eric.”

“Good night, Jack.”

**+++**

Jack opened his apartment door and instantly dropped his bag on the hallway floor. He took off his gym shoes and flung his mask onto the table in the entryway. He began peeling off his t-shirt and shorts, leaving a trail of clothing behind him as he instantly made a beeline to the shower.

He scrubbed like there was no tomorrow, finished quickly, toweled off, dropped his wet towel on the floor behind him, and rummaged through his dresser to pull out a t-shirt and pair of shorts. Jack brushed his teeth, put on deodorant, and ran a comb through his hair. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before he was in front of Eric’s door, knocking. 

Jack could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Eric to open. Eric looked just as breathless as Jack felt when he opened the door.

The two stared at one another for a beat, before Eric pulled Jack in by the neck of this t-shirt, and the two began to kiss frantically.

Jack kicked the door shut behind him, and Eric clung to him, mouths searching for mouths, lips on lips, tongue, and teeth—it was at all too much and not enough as the two sank onto the floor in Eric’s living room.

The months of peace and humor shared between them, the gentle teasing and laughter, everything that had occurred, seemed to have brought Jack and Eric toward that moment all along. It had been easy; there was no anxiety, no sense of fear. It was like it had always been between them, like coming home to a place they never knew existed but was 100% where they belonged; hands to hands, heart to heart. 

Later, as Jack and Eric were curled up naked on Eric’s sofa with a soft blanket over them, Jack marveled at how different his life was from four months ago—in so, so many ways. Their legs slowly intertwined as toes touched toes. 

“So, that was nice,” Jack said with a smile as he planted a kiss on Eric’s lips.

Eric hummed happily. “Nice? Nice is what you say about someone’s living room or green bean casserole.” 

“Well, we are in your living room.”

Eric shook his head and grinned as he pressed kisses onto Jack’s chest. “You rapscallion.”

Jack let out a happy sigh.

“Hey,” he said suddenly remembering. “Where’s my surprise?”

Eric kissed Jack one more time and smiled. “Your surprise! Yes! Get dressed, come see.”

He got up from the couch and pulled Jack up.

“Come on, mister. Come see!”

Eric and Jack quickly threw their clothes back on, and Eric led him to the balcony.

“Close your eyes.”

“You’re not going to push me off, are you?”

“Are you always this morbid?!” Eric laughed.

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Jack replied as Eric led him outside. 

“Okay, open them!”

Jack saw that Eric had removed the railing that divided their balconies.

“No way,” Jack said with a laugh. “How did you do this?”

“Very carefully, quietly, and on the down-low. I don’t think I’m allowed to do this, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Jack walked onto his balcony, taking Eric by the hand. He looked around both spaces. Eric had put some of his potted plants on Jack’s side, and some of his pillows as well. A small herb garden was beginning to flourish near Jack’s screen door.

“What do you think?”

Jack pulled Eric into a hug. 

“I love it," Jack said and in that instant knew what he wanted to say next. "I absolutely love it, and you.”

Eric’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

“I love you.” 

“You love me?”

Jack nodded. It had been the easiest thing in the world for him to say. No fear, no anxiety, just total and complete certainty. 

“Oh honey, I’ve been loving you, too.”

Jack leaned down to press a soft kiss onto Eric’s lips as they stood between both balconies.

**+**

Later that night, Jack waited in his bed as he heard Eric in the bathroom brushing his teeth. The way he hummed while he did it warmed Jack’s heart.

Eric emerged, face freshly scrubbed and moisturized.

“Well, that confirms that you certainly have a nicer apartment than mine."

Jack grinned. “What does?”

“Your shower, silly! And, after being in that shower of yours, I can tell you, you are never getting rid of me,” he said with a grin as he tossed his damp towel into Jack’s hamper, already making himself at home which, in turn, made Jack’s stomach do a happy little flip.

“I see how it is, Bittle. You’re just using me for my shower,” Jack said, pretending to be cross.

“Yep, your shower and that magnificent ass of yours,” Eric said.

He jumped into the bed and quickly pinched Jack’s bottom.

“Bittle, huh?" he teased. 

Before Eric realized what had happened, Jack rolled over and pulled Eric beneath him as he began to tickle him.

“Stop! Stop!” Eric cried out, laughter exploding from him. “Or else I’m going to ask Shut the Fuck Up Guy for help!”

“Fine, I’ll take pity on you, but only because I love you,” Jack said with a goofy grin.

They smiled and snuggled up together, already feeling like an old married couple, comfortable and safe.

“Do you snore?” Eric asked.

“You mean if we actually get to sleep?”

“Yeah, that,” he said with a chirpy grin.

“No clue,” Jack replied. “I can’t even begin to tell you the last time I shared a bed with someone. I guess we can call Shitty and ask him.”

“Lord, do I have to worry about you and Shitty?”

“Haha. Never,” Jack said as he pressed a kiss onto Eric’s head.

“I know, I’m kidding.” He then looked at Jack thoughtfully and said, “I know you’ll never hurt me.”

“Never,” Jack said.

Jack turned off the lights and Jack spooned Eric as they closed their eyes, wondering if a good night’s sleep was in their future.

**_Two Years Later_ **

3:00 a.m.

Jack awoke, sleep still heavy in his eyes, and looked at the clock on his nightstand as it shone in the moonlight. He exhaled, which caused their cat, Rollie (short for Barcarolle), who dozed at the foot of the bed, to stir slightly. 

The last two years were such a whirlwind. When a vaccine had finally been developed, things began to change—although they would never really be the same as they once were. And truth be told, no one wanted that anyway. It was a new normal.

Jack yawned once, then rolled over onto this side. He curled up against Eric, spooning him tightly. They had been married almost right away. They both knew and didn't want to spend any more time apart.

Their wedding had been a quiet affair; a day trip of ten local friends to a calm, empty stretch of beach on Martha’s Vineyard as the family watched on Zoom with promises of a proper celebration at the appropriate time.

Jack often wondered how it all happened. How did he and Eric manage to find one another? What stars aligned just so, that even in the most horrific of times, they got incredibly lucky? It was a mystery, and like all mysteries, Jack had no idea of the how and the why. He only knew for certain that he was happy, and he and Eric had no trouble sleeping now. 

Jack yawned again and held Eric even closer as he drifted back to sleep for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Johnson! Don't ever change. :DDD
> 
>  _[Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing](https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/286551/tales-of-a-fourth-grade-nothing-by-judy-blume/)_ and [_The Boxcar Children_](https://www.boxcarchildren.com/) are the books those two were referring to.
> 
> Yeah, I know that's not how the real Return to Play works, but for this fic, it does. ;)
> 
> All OMGCP characters belong to Ngozi Ukazu.
> 
> Come and say hi [on Tumblr](https://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/post/625267385618841600/love-and-insomnia-wrathofthestag-check-please).


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